


His Own Hands

by Katrina



Series: Wizards and Curses [5]
Category: Bleach, Tales of the Five Hundred Kingdoms - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, First Transformations, Ichigo is a stubborn, M/M, not beta we die like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katrina/pseuds/Katrina
Summary: Ichigo finds something that may be of help in dealing with the curses.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Series: Wizards and Curses [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808881
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11





	His Own Hands

**Author's Note:**

> So much fun writing this. Glad those who are following this are enjoying it as well.

Sitting in his room, a scattering of books around him, Ichigo thought about his life at the moment. Thought about his life and maybe plotted something a bit reckless.

This was a good time for it. Urahara was off helping set up a christening in another kingdom, working with a sorceress there to make sure the local dark witch was nudged in just the right way. It was the first child of the crown, and a daughter at that. Prime dark magic user bait. 

Ichigo would have liked to have gone. He was going a bit mad in this tower. He could understand why more than a few Ladderlocks went so odd in their towers. He had only been here for a few weeks. They only knew their towers until they were rescued.

But being alone was what he wanted at the moment. It let him try something. 

Sitting on the bed, he was leaning back against the headboard. The room was warm, and he was as comfortable as he could get at the moment. Settled, Ichigo shut his eyes and took a deep breath. As he let it out, he focused internally. 

There was the glow of his magic. He had been born with a natural ability to see the magic around him, which Urahara had honed to a fine talent over the years. So seeing his own magic was as natural as breathing for Ichigo. 

After seeing it for so long, he could see where it was mutated. 

Throughout the pale blue that was his own power was a mix of black and red sparks. The red, brilliant crimson and vibrant and familiar, those were Urahara’s magic. It was tangled up with the sickly dark left from Aizen’s curse. 

At some point, he was going to ask Urahara what the man knew about Aizen. The way he avoided talking about the man could only mean there was some history. Something Ichigo would have to find out about sometime.

For now, what Ichigo knew was the man had left a curse on him. It was in stasis now, suppressed. But it was still there. 

Most change to his magic was the stuff that still danced around his hair. That was annoying in general. Though it was nice when Urahara was here, as he would help Ichigo brush this mess. 

That magic had slowed greatly. Ichigo’s hair was still growing, but only slightly faster than natural. Given his hair now dragged on the floor, he still had a neck and backache every night when he went to bed. Longer hair was not something he wanted.

Urahara owed him so much for this.

But right now, he had something else he wanted to do. 

He reached out mentally, brushing fingers over the tangle of colors that were the dual magics caught in his own. Black and crimson. He felt them, feeling the warping effects of Aizen’s spell still throbbing through the dark specks. Like a deep bruise, or one’s head after a night of drinking. Unpleasant, and a warning of worse to come if you weren’t careful.

Well, if Ichigo could be described in any way, he could admit that recklessness was up there. 

He curled his mental fingers around that magic. Had stumbled over something in one of the books he had been searching through. A magic user who had been cursed, but then took that magic and changed it to something she wanted to use it for. 

She had been a godmother, however. Ichigo was only a part fey prince with a bit of wizard training. 

But he would not let this control his life. 

Mental fingers tight, Ichigo pulled hard on that magic. He accepted the curse, that he was to become a beast. But he also caught the spell of protection that was the source of the crimson magic.

That spell, that beat hot in his mind as he focused on it, was not a simple protective spell. The care and love that Urahara had, even if he was bad at talking about it, ran through it as brightly as the crimson color. That love and the support in it became part of what Aizen had left behind. 

The world around him exploded silently. 

Power spilled out, and his vision warped a moment. There was an aching throb through his head, his skin felt tight. He cried out, physical hands coming up to press at his face as a howl tore out of his throat. 

There was something hard there, slick under his fingers. 

Stumbling to his feet, Ichigo staggered to the mirror and looked into it. 

There was a white and red face looking back, crowned with wild orange hair. He stared at the black and gold eyes, and the flicker of magic around him. 

It was black and crimson, not blue. 

Then it all collapsed, taking Ichigo with it. 

He hit the ground with a grunt, panting as if he had just run miles. Felt the mask on his face flake away, taking the dual colored magic with it. His own blue shades flickered, then smoothed. 

Everything ached, but Ichigo found himself smiling. 

That transformation…. It wasn’t great. It hurt, and he felt far more drained than he should have been. But he had taken control of it. He took what should have been a painful, spiteful experience, designed to leave him a monster, and made it his. 

He laid there for a bit, long enough to finally catch his breath. 

Then he hauled himself upright. This was a skill he needed to learn to control. Because it would be a skill, not a curse. It was meant to be a curse, but Ichigo was not going to let someone like Aizen do what he wanted.

If the man wanted to curse Ichigo, Ichigo would just show him why that was a bad idea. By punching him in the face with the very power he tried to use against Ichigo. 

Around him, Ichigo could feel the Tradition pausing. It loomed, lingering heavily over his head. This was something newer, rarely done. No stories followed this path, and he knew that the Tradition would try to push it one way or another. To make things follow a path of story. 

“I control myself,” he scowled, then gathered up the magic to do the transformation again. 

It hurt as much as the first time, but it came easier. The magic, still so different from his own, curled around him once more as he looked into a mask that wasn’t his face. There was a slight variation of the red markings on his mask, but it was similar enough he didn't worry. 

Ichigo still controlled the transformation. 

He would not bow to Aizen. He would not bow to the Tradition. 

As long as he continued to keep that in mind, Ichigo knew he could beat this. He had never been one to back down from a challenge. 

He’d win and get his happily ever after on his own terms.


End file.
